Frozen
by detective-sweetheart
Summary: As they step outside and head back towards the car, he realizes that he’s colder now without the coat than he had been before when he had it on.


It's one of those days when no one in their right mind would be outside without a good reason. A snowstorm has fallen over New York City, and according to the newscasters, it isn't going to end anytime soon. None of them dare to leave the squad room, to make their way across various bridges to get home, so they remain in the precinct.

The squad room itself is relatively silent. They have nothing better to do than try to finish their paperwork, and so the only sounds are of pens on paper. Other voices drift in from other squad rooms nearby, but they ignore it, intent on finishing so they don't have much to do later on. And then the phone rings.

He reaches out to answer the one on his desk, and at the same time, wishes that it hadn't rung at all, because he really doesn't want to go out in this weather, and he doubts that his partner wants to, either. But it doesn't matter. He's answered the call, and now they don't have a choice. He listens for a few minutes and then hangs up, reaching for his coat and motioning to his partner as he takes a set of keys.

Wind hits their faces as soon as they step outside. The city has been covered effectively by a blanket of white, but they have no time to enjoy it. Pulling their coats closer around them, they go towards one of the unmarked cars and get in. Within minutes, they've left the precinct's parking lot and are on their way towards what will become their latest case.

When they get there, they see no one. At least, not until they walk into the alley. There, they find a uniformed officer talking softly to someone in the shadows. Their footsteps alert him to their presence and he straightens, turning to face them, a look of evident sadness on his face.

"She won't come out," he says quietly. The two detectives exchange glances; he shifts slightly where he is standing so as to avoid getting too cold before he speaks.

"Who won't come out?" he asks. The uniform sighs and motions in the direction he'd just been looking.

At this point, he looks at his partner again before moving forward. The uniform moves back, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see the two men moving out of sight. He knows that his partner will ask the uniform what he knows, and if he heard anything before finding whoever it was he was talking to. But at the moment, those things are of little importance to him.

As his eyes adjust to the dim light in the alley, he becomes aware of a smaller presence lingering in the nearby shadows. The figure is a small child, looking no older than five years old and wrapped in little more than a thin blanket. Her eyes are half-closed; she's conscious, but her lips are blue, and he doubts she'll be that way for long. A faint sound of fear escapes her as he draws closer; he hesitates for a moment before deciding that waiting any longer will probably result in something he doesn't want.

When he's close enough to see her fully, he drops down to his knees, ignoring the fact that his clothes will be ruined by his doing so. The child's eyes open fully at this point; she stares up at up, frightened and uncertain. She tries to move away, but it becomes evident that she's too weak to effectively do so when she stops moving and tugs the blanket closer around her.

"How long have you been out here, sweetheart?" he asks, fighting to keep his voice from breaking. She doesn't answer at first, still staring at him with that look of fear. When she finally does speak, her answer is almost lost in the wind.

"Don't hurt me." Her voice is barely a whisper, and when it registers with him what she's said, he offers up a faint smile, taking his coat off and holding it out to her, ignoring the cold.

"I won't," he tells her softly, "I want to help you." She continues to stare at him, still fearful, but she starts to move forward, and struggles. Swallowing back tears, he moves the rest of the way, and wraps her in the coat, picking her up as he rises to his feet. Comforted by the sudden warmth, she nestles closer against him and closes her eyes.

They leave the alley as she starts to fall asleep. When he catches sight of his partner, he nods down towards the tiny bundle in his arms.

"She needs a hospital," he says quietly.

"Give me the keys." comes the reply. Shifting the child in his arms, he reaches into his pocket for the keyring and hands it over. Moving against the wind, the two of them make their way back towards the car. The uniform is gone, most likely gone back to his precinct, but at this point, neither of them care.

He sits in the back with her, refusing point blank to relinquish his hold on her. Color is slowly starting to return to her face, but all it does is make her bruises more evident. He wonders vaguely if her struggle to move had anything to do with broken bones and offers up a silent prayer that it isn't the case. No sound comes from the front. The snowstorm has begun to worsen; his partner's eyes are on the road and nothing else, so as to keep things from getting worse than they already are.

What seems like an eternity passes by before they finally reach Bellevue, the hospital nearest to where they'd found the girl. The lights hurt his eyes when he runs inside, careful not to jar the child in his arms too much, but she's already awake, and looking up at him again. The nurses in the emergency room take one look at them before taking her out of his arms, and carrying her towards one of the nearest examining rooms.

When they disappear from sight, he sinks into one of the chairs in the waiting room, leaning forward with his face hidden in his hands. Commotion comes from the room he'd watched the nurses disappeared into; a doctor appears, shaking her head sadly.

"She won't let us touch her," she explains when he looks at her, a questioning look on his face. "Maybe it would help if you were in there."

Deciding that for once, it is worth it to risk his partner's wrath, he nods and rises to his feet, following her into the second examining room. When the girl sees him, she reaches out to him, not saying anything. But the look on her face is enough. He moves forward and sits, drawing her into his lap, coat and all. She hides her face in his chest, refusing to look the doctor in the eye as she starts to examine her.

"How long was she outside?" she asks. He looks up and sighs.

"I asked her," he says. "She wouldn't tell me. All she'd do was ask me not to hurt her."

"She's lucky you brought her here," the doctor tells him. "Any longer, she'd have probably frozen to death."

Silence falls after this proclamation; he looks down at the girl, but she's fallen asleep again. A few minutes pass before the doctor speaks again.

"We'll have to keep her overnight for observation," she says quietly. He nods, wordlessly, and rises to his feet, still holding the child.

"Will she be all right?" he asks. The doctor sighs.

"More than likely," she replies. "Right now it's touch and go. We'll probably have to run a few tests to make sure she hasn't contracted anything…" She trails off, but he knows the rest of her statement pretty much by heart, and so it doesn't matter. He reaches over with his free hand to brush the child's hair out of her face before handing her over.

"Take care of her." he says quietly, but firmly. The doctor gives a faint, almost bitter smile and nods.

"We will." she says. They look at each other for a few seconds; he is the first to break their eye contact, turning on his heel and leaving before he can get any more emotional than he already is. He'll be back here first thing tomorrow morning, and he knows it, but for now, he has a job to do.

His partner is in the waiting room looking for him when he gets there; ignoring the look of annoyance cast in his direction, he takes the keys back and the two of them make their way towards the emergency room exit. The doors slide open and a gust of wind meets them, just like it did when they were leaving the precinct.

As they step outside and head back towards the car, he realizes that he's colder now without the coat than he had been before when he had it on.

A/N: You people probably think I think about Munch too much by now, huh? Well, that's just what happens when I get bored. And this happens too: more one-shots...meh. You all probably think I'm nuts by now. Anyways...SVU is not mine.


End file.
